


buds on the branch

by sketchnurse



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Author adores semicolons, Cardassian Arguing, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia, Romance, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchnurse/pseuds/sketchnurse
Summary: On their first night out in a newly reconstructed Cardassian city, Garak gives Julian another lesson in Cardassian culture, and Julian takes the opportunity to apply it.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 24
Kudos: 108





	buds on the branch

**Author's Note:**

> This piece had been sitting on my desktop for far too long. A rewatch of the series inspired me to finish it. Just some soft prose about taking the gentle leap into love.

On this particular night, it was in temperate spring air, shot through with pollen and ether, that Garak found himself admiring the near-familiar orange shade of the skies. He was sat at a small table, on a replicated plastic seat, and the cityscape around him was strange, but at last, it was Cardassia still. There was no imagining a night more perfect than this. Finally, after almost a year of drudging, dragging sufferage to put the rubble of an empire back together, there were enough people taking a night off to dine on this terrace to make the city feel like it felt in Garak's memories. 

There was something new, however: his dear friend Julian, human and certainly still wingeing on about the heat, seated across from him at their corner table. It was only Julian's fifth month on the planet, but already he was deeply browned and looking so comfortable in his clothes it was as though he'd never been in a 'fleet uniform. Then he'd look over at something in wonder, some little artifact from before the war that had resurged but never before passed by his alien eyes, and Garak would remember where he'd come from. Where fortune had sent him into Garak’s path.

"So, you were saying earlier, you’ll finally have a resting day off?" Traditionally, there were allocated days of rest and allocated days of labour for most of Cardassian society, and certainly the non-Cardassian workers were included in this practice, but Garak, important as he was, had been 'on call' since he'd taken on his position. He'd been about to explain the change in his situation when a busperson came by to take their plates, and Garak had paused to thank him. Restaurants had only been open in the city since the start of the week, as things like table service and, frankly, choice in what one would eat, had been unnecessary luxuries. It was such a simple pleasure to be able to sit down and have others take care of the meal for the night, and of course it was so much better with Julian Bashir to share that pleasure with him. _A pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled_ ; it was a proverb, surely, though Garak couldn't quite place whose it was. 

"It was just approved this afternoon, actually. It seems things are finally calm enough to allow me a little time away from the office." And the surveys, and the interviews, and the endless travelling. The time to spend as he pleased was an absolute gift. 

What Garak wanted was to spend the day arguing with Julian to his heart's content about a number of subjects he'd been saving up for such occasions, but there was still something in him that couldn't quite get the words out to ask if his friend would spend the day with him. Very likely Julian would, but there was something about asking for it, revealing that his company was something he truthfully wanted, that made Garak feel unpleasantly exposed. Julian did indeed seem to like him, and had rarely turned down his company, but beyond that, Garak couldn't parse his motivations. Julian's satisfaction with his new life was palpable, yes, but it was unacceptably difficult to figure out _why_ that was. Because he was helping a people in need navigate their trauma through his medical expertise? Because living with Garak, spending most nights reading at the fireplace and trading barbs, creating new meals out of the same rations over and over again, listening to the locusts chirp in the morning as the sun rose and their days began, his shoulder always touched by Garak for luck as he left for work, was gratifying, too? 

"When is it?" Julian asked him. He sipped at a glass of purified water on ice, another luxury that had just started to become available again. 

"Not tomorrow but the next day. And if that vaccine of yours is successful, the one after may be my own as well. " 

"Oh, your vacation time could be my doing? If I'd known my successes could lessen your workload, I'd spend more time in the lab." 

"From what I've heard, that would be almost impossible, unless you’ve managed to invent a device allowing you to live your day more than once." He'd pried Julian away from his compulsion to overwork on more than a few occasions. Without the bounds of Federation standards, Julian had vigorously applied himself to his work more often than he'd recommend to any patient, and waved off any concern with vague statements about his genetic augmentations. They'd grown in scope since Garak had first heard about them, and he suspected very firmly that Julian made some up when it suited him as an excuse.

Of course, at this point in this particular vaccine's development, as Garak well knew, no additional amount of lab work contributed by Julian Bashir in particular would have hurried this along at all, nor could he physically have put any more time in earlier, but that didn't really matter, did it? 

"That might be something to look into." Julian replied, cheerfully, and then looked over at the couple two tables down from them, currently being seated by the host and and exchanging biting insults with alarming speed. She was tall, willowy but athletic looking, her hair in a long braid down her back, a rare shade of light ashy grey. He was an inch or two shorter, and his hair looked newly cut, sharp enough to have been done by a professional, or at least a person with skill and time on their hands. Probably this was their first date out in quite some time. 

"You pull my chair out for me every time, _every_ time, Evek, but you can't even keep it from scraping this peat floor! How can you make a noise so sharp it grates my head with a _peat_ floor?" 

"Perhaps if my lady didn't have such abnormal ears, she wouldn't hear every scrape and scratch? You're like a human. Or a _Vulcan_. Only an alien could complain of hearing me in the kitchen three rooms away while they were trying to read." 

"Oh yes, it's my sensitive hearing that's the problem, not the kilos you've put on since we acquired that land vehicle. Your footfalls are as loud as a riding hound's, and half as graceful." 

"And yet, I'm not the one who botched completely the first dance at my cousin's marriage party just two nights ago. You looked like a baby taking its first steps. Though perhaps that was your usual overconsumption of spirits?"

"How else was I supposed to cope with having you as my companion for the evening? Yes, you’re such an embarassment that I have to become more embarassing still to distract from it.” They stared intently at each other. Suddenly the man laughed, and hit the woman's arm with a delicate chop of his nearby wrist. 

Julian was still watching them; he and Garak had been silent for almost a minute now. Doubtless when he'd got his fill he'd ask Garak what exactly was going on with these two, and Garak would have to explain, explain without letting any trace of longing into his voice, which wouldn't be difficult, but there was still the matter of it having to be done at all. 

"You're such an asshole." Evek said (or at least that's the Standard word Garak figured Bashir's translator would offer), a shamefully large smile on his face. His companion beamed back at him, and they seemed to lose themselves in the other's eyes. Julian turned back to him, already a question on his face.

"What was all that about? I know Cardassians argue for sport, and that it's sometimes a courting thing, but I've never seen a couple get so dramatic. Or vicious." 

"Vicious skirmishes like that are considered the height of romance in the majority of Cardassian cultures. What you are seeing is a level of affectionate evisceration only well-matched spouses could produce." The truth, perhaps, was the best to offer his friend, especially when Julian's first reaction was likely to be skepticism. 

"I see. And how does that work?" Not so skeptical, then. Julian's interest in nearly everything Cardassian was always obvious, but there was a level of almost personal investment in the intensity with which Julian asked this question. Garak took his attention off the three workers seated behind them, and off the three other closest tables as well. Something gave him the sense that this wasn't going to be a conversation he could afford to lose focus on. 

To Julian, he gave the appearance of his usual lecturing self. "It's rather simple, and the same principle as all arguing-as-bond; only with a deep level of trust and affection could two people insult each other so and never take it personally. This practice takes it to a dangerous extreme; the difference between a casual stroll in the forest and the weeks-long hike of a serious backpacker, let's say." 

Julian considered him, or perhaps just the concept. His gaze was lingering just a little too long on Garak's face. "Do they believe what they say?"

"Enough to keep the criticism biting, but exaggerated enough to demonstrate that they really aren't at all concerned about the issues they bring up. If this woman was truly bothered by her Evek's volume, they'd likely be discussing it in private, and without any of this playful back and forth . But you see, if it was all invented, there wouldn't be an undercurrent of, how shall I put it? That they have been observing each other so obsessively to notice all of these small imperfections." 

"Ah, so the more you notice about your spouse, the more you can use your observations to demonstrate your commitment to being part of their life." 

"Precisely." Previously, and especially right at the beginning (how that seemed so long ago now!), Garak wouldn't have wanted Julian to know so much about such things. But they were long past the point that he had to worry about compromising himself or Cardassia to the Federation. There was only survival to worry about, and ensuring that there would be many more nights like this for his people to enjoy. He continued, chancing to see where this would take them. "It's also an opportunity to show off that you still have an attractively quick wit, and will hold your own in an argument. You haven't become complacement in your domestic life, and still want to keep learning and growing."

"That _is_ terribly romantic.” Julian admitted, now looking at the couple with what might have been wist. Garak wondered terribly, and not for the first time, how good this human would be at such a practice. He’d gotten in many sharp remarks in the course of their friendship, a few debates that had even begun to skirt the line, but nothing like this rapid fire exchange of barbs, so addicting to participate in that it was sometimes hard to stop. As the couple was now demonstrating, having started up again, this time over how she apparently couldn’t keep a plant growing to save their lives. They weren’t quite at famine status any longer, and the heat in their argument was not that of fear.

“So this is something only married couples do? Or only married couples are any good at?” Evek and his partner clearly were spouses, if you knew what to look for, and at this point, Julian did. Garak wondered what Julian would look like, a married man on Cardassia. The sun was well into setting, glasses of kanaar had been had, and he didn't care not to. 

“I must admit, it seems to be coming in style for those who have not yet formally bonded in any way. In the past, however, holding such an argument before entering into a committed relationship was considered mostly a young person’s folly. Without experience and familarity, it’s easy to go a little too far, wouldn’t you say?”

“Or be so timid you don’t appear properly obsessed.” Julian offered. It was annoyingly spot on. “I suppose it would be seen as almost vulgar to demonstrate such devotion to someone you aren't in a formal relationship with. " Julian hadn't paid attention to the couple for a good few minutes; he was completely looking at Garak, who was suddenly wary of continuing the conversation too much further; perhaps it had been a mistake to offer what he had. Garak had spent time thinking, admittedly a great deal and not always constructively, about how to address the undeniable tension between them should the subject come up, but he wasn't close at all to knowing what he wanted from Julian, or how to go about getting it. After all, Julian wasn't too long gone from the young man who'd chased shallow affairs, or the more aged but still naive man who idealised his loves in his head and let that clash with the reality of the person he'd fallen for. 

What of him did Garak want? What of himself would Julian let him have? 

Garak returned Julian's gaze with a smile, briefly making eye contact before turning his head and returning his attention to the couple and the beginnings of a sunset behind them. It wouldn't do to seem at all off-kilter. “Quite right. As I've said, many conventions have eased and changed in my people since the last time I lived in this city. I've seen more than a few pairs of lovers not yet betrothed behaving like those two over there - lacking the precision of their art, of course. Still, complete trust is, _unwise_ until you've made a formal commitment, to someone who has shown that they are worth such a thing."

Garak was surprised Julian didn't remark on that, that he didn't poke at all at the fact that in the past, Garak had advocated for giving complete trust to no one at all, under any circumstances. Instead he joined Garak in looking in the direction of the couple again, much less subtle than Garak was about it. He hoped Julian was seeing at least some of the sunset. At this particular point, it was nothing short of breathtaking. But so was the sight of such deep, open affection between two of his people. Their adoration of each other was a testament to the strength that so many of them had shown in refusing to live in fear of change and taking the chance to rebuild their world to be stronger than ever before. In the face of such destruction and painful, grasping progress, this couple had stayed together, remained in love enough to still seek out with hunger everything the other did, stockpiled those little moments so that none were wasted, all shared again to show their love. It was this sort of sentimental grace that had led Garak to develop a problem towards such feelings in the first place. 

The clashing voices got a little louder. "No, you _know_ we have to be quick at the supply office, or we’ll miss the last transport again! Will you not cease in your reckless gambles with time?"

“That’s what you get for trusting my navigational skills. Surely you’d know by now that I’m hopeless in this foreign city?" 

“It wasn’t your poor navigation, it was your ambitious stomach. You ordered palotop again. You can’t get good palotop in less than ten minutes!” Undetectable to his companion, unless Julian had got further in his linguistics study than Garak knew, the woman's tone of voice indicted a sense of deep, deprecating fondness, like an owner whose riding hound had fallen into the pond trying to sniff its own reflection. 

“And you can’t enjoy a soft spring night without palotop. Not when there’s a beautiful woman at your elbow.” Evek raised his eyebrows, his fleshy but classically handsome face still glowing with affection for his partner. 

“You and your stories.” The woman shook her head, more slowly than one usually would, and her braid, which had fallen forward onto her chest, shimmered in the light of the terrace torches, seeming to hypnotize Evek for a moment. “Must we reenact all of your childhood favourites? I’m starting to suspect I’ve joined with a child, not an adult Cardassian. One who concocted an elaborate disguise.” 

“Your motherly qualities are too sparse to attract any children, no matter how grown.” 

Julian's eyes were on Garak again. “Sort of like a fast paced roast, I suppose." His eyes were just noticably more hooded than they had been a moment before, and his head, though effectively at the same distance, seemed to be drawing closer. "Looks like fun." 

“Perhaps you’ll one day find someone to enjoy a good spousal argument with.” Garak said, decidely still observing the couple and not his own companion. 

“I hope so.” Julian's voice was a little quiet, a little more serious in tone than Garak was used to, at least during their leisure time. It was hard to ignore, and spent Garak's mind spinning in several well-spun directions. 

He was still unable to resist the urge to tease at Julian even in this precarious tableau. “Though certainly not if you continue to work through your leisure days.” 

“I don’t know if I need that much time to look.” Julian replied, infuriatingly focused on Garak’s face. Garak's heart beat just a little faster; to someone so trained in controlling his own reactions, it was like he had suddenly started to sprint. “I’m getting a little old to be choosy, aren’t I?” 

“And what would that make me?” Garak asked, stupidly, clearly intoxicated by the loveliness of the night, its meal, and his companion. “I hardly think your mid-thirties can be considered old at any stretch.” But Julian just smiled, and signed the bill for their waiter, and offered his hand to help his friend from his seat. 

Garak broke the contact just a scarce instant later than would be considered appropriate, savouring the thrill of it and hoping that the sparks he felt would give him the momentum he needed to let things happen. Beyond them the couple had settled into their food, and were now offering each other bites of the various dishes they’d ordered. As they passed, Garak avoided making eye contact, but Julian shamelessly gave them a glance back. 

From the restaurant they stepped onto the sidewalk of a main street, then down a narrower avenue that eventually led to the main pedestrian commuter's path. Snaking through the newly reconstructed city, one of its arms led out of the urban centre and into the agricultural land where Garak and Julian's residence was. There was a warm, pulsing couple of inches between them as they walked, and Garak swore he could feel every movement Julian's left arm made as it swung between them, even in his long spring sleeves. 

"You’ll have to settle for the absolute _dregs_ of society, Garak.” Julian said, a few minutes into what had been a silent walk back to their residence. “The very bottom of the barrel.” His voice was pompous, as was likely required to pull off such ridiculous statements, but there was a soft light in his eyes, and his walk betrayed a fragility beneath his bluster. 

“In Cardassian preservation techniques, the bottom of the barrel is likely to contain the tastiest contents.” Garak said, having no idea how wild an invention this was. “The most popular jam of the Ramoba province, for example, produces a sediment that is considered a delicacy more delicious than the ordinary product.” 

Julian accepted this with nothing more than a twinkle in his eye. "In any case, you're not getting the top or the bottom of any barrel with your availability; you'd hardly have five minutes to argue." 

“I had far more than five minutes for you, tonight.” Garak said, heart now catching in his chest as the words left him, though he still looked the same charming, prickly lizard he always did. "Or did you manage to drift off on some medical daydream and have forgotten our hours of conversation?"

“Hmm, and I’m certainly one to talk, aren’t I, with my apparent inability to stay away from my lab more than twelve hours, is that right? I bet you think I'm more likely to marry my genetic sequencing machine than a person.”

"Oh, I wouldn't think so low of you to believe you'd wed an unconsenting machine - no matter how much you may have in common. And twelve is certainly a generous estimate - I’m lucky to have you home for an interval of more than six. I don't care what sort of enhancements you have, that isn't nearly enough time spent resting that obstinate head of yours.” 

"Says the man who has been working nearly a year straight. If anyone's _obstinate_ head needs resting, it's yours! " 

This was rapidly becoming an archetypal romantic argument itself, Garak was very aware, and on Julian's part, an embarassingly sloppy one, and none of his experience knew what to do, just that something was finally, really shifting between them. At the back of Garak’s mind, in a flat curve he’d long ignored in favour of rationality and denial of whim, his soft instincts nudged him toward returning fire, seeing where recklessness could take them. “If you spent any time at home, you'd notice how many hours I've managed to spend on rest - the orders of a rather persistant doctor, I might add!"

“And it's a good thing, too, or you'd have been dead on your feet with how much you work. I hardly see you awake; it's a miracle I was able to take you out tonight! I'm lucky to catch even a glimpse of you in the morning. Time, Garak? You've no time at all, even when we have plans! Or are you forgetting the times we were supposed to go down to the quarry and do a little rock fishing after your day shift?”

“Oh yes, how could I possibly forget the day I had to cancel our marine harvest for a _bomb disarmament_?” 

“Perhaps if you didn’t have to be at every disaster scene to, how did you phrase it, 'ensure incompentents weren’t screwing it up', you’d have a spouse to argue with, too!”

“How could I, when I’m apparently to reserve all waking hours for teaching _you_ how to spear our planet's slowest species?” 

Theirs was now a secluded path, lit by a few sparse emergency lights that had become permanent fixtures. In the distance Garak could just barely pick out the notes of a street busker playing in the square they had passed by on their way home. They’d been walking close together during their bickering, but now Julian was several meters ahead of him, far enough that Garak could see his whole form. In his light, gauzy clothing, woven from a fabric Garak had designed himself for non-Cardassian relief workers who needed to prevent overheating and styled with subtle geometric patterns, he looked almost alien from the young man he'd been all that time ago, in that first year of Deep Space Nine. 

“Are you being deliberately dense?” Julian asked him, though it sounded more like he was asking himself. “Or is there some step I'm missing?" He narrowed his eyes in thought, as though Garak were a medical conundrum. "Or you've already moved on and I've been behind this whole time, you're wondering when I'm going to make the next move."

"My dear, you're not making much sense."

Julian stopped ahead of him, at the foot of a small wooden bridge that led over a newly formed creek. It was only toxic runoff from the agricultural recovery efforts, but Garak couldn't help but notice the beauty of the scene it formed. 

At the bridge, Julian seemed to struggle with himself for a long moment, like he was trying hard to choose his words well. Rarely had Garak seen him think so much before he spoke. “Am I the only one wondering when we're going to acknowledge what we _feel_?" His tone was passionate, his look earnest, not at all like the easy sexuality he’d oozed for past partners. "Am I _completely_ wrong about everything, or is there not something _there_ , something between you and me that shouldn't be ignored? Garak, I might even go so far as to say that it's." In the new copper moonlight he glowed, sweat still stubbornly beading at the top of his human forehead. "Love." he finished, simply. 

Garak waited a beat, a deafeningly silent beat. “It does seem that way.” he admitted. Before, such an admission would have cost him deeply, but somehow the truth wasn't so daunting tonight. It was time to let go of the fear that he was too poisoned to give someone a good life, and this would tumble them both down. Julian had so much potential, so much to give. How dare he risk the good Doctor Bashir could do for his planet on mere feelings? But it was all futile, and always had been. All beings were bound to chance; all they could do was take the little control they had and acknowledge what the two of them had now, in reality, through the course of events that had occured on their plane. 

Julian stood still at the railing of the bridge, unmoving even as Garak stayed in place. The space between them was charged with energy. 

"I've never felt like this about anyone." Julian said softly, suddenly unable to meet Garak's eyes. "Not like that - I've been in love before. But I've _never_ adored anyone for as long or as well as I've adored you. I'm sharing my life with an exceptional man, Garak. " He managed to look up. "Sometimes I feel lucky just to be near you."

"If you're going to talk like that, you should really be calling me 'Elim'." Garak said, but he was somewhat floored by the depth of feeling his friend had demonstrated. "And I'd have to be, to attract your attention, Julian Bashir." 

He had, clearly. The man had come to him, come to him after reading the ridiculous epic of a letter he'd sent, come to his home and shyly asked if he'd let him help. Worked with him on little projects until the offworld paperwork had cleared and a permanent position found, and then continued to help with them afterward. Stood sweating in Garak's small garden, smiling down at the shoots poking through the faintly fertile dirt. 

"Elim. Please, come here." He did as he was asked; now they were standing together on the bridge, elbows touching. He could see the the night sky reflected in Julian's eyes. He'd been in this city many times, but never like this, on this moonlit bridge over turbid waters, cast in shadows from vegetation that had never before grown in these soils. 

"Love isn't an easy game on Cardassia," Garak told him. Though he knew that Julian would take little heed of it, he felt he owed the man the warning. "It's a constant struggle, a constant battle between the selfish need to adore the one and the selfless drive to be dutiful to the many. The more you need your beloved, the less you can give to your state, and so you can never give all of yourself. Or did you learn nothing from The Neverending Sacrifice?" Despite his words, Garak pressed into the space between them, relishing in the cascade of new reactions he'd never induced in Julian before. New flush to his cheeks, a tightening at his chest. "Are you sure this is the sort of challenge you want?" Julian's pulse beat faster in his neck, his skin glowed still warmer with new bloodflow, his muscles tense in what must have been anticipation. 

"I think you're worth it." Julian whispered, and brought their faces together, so that their noses almost touched. "I think you've been worth it for a long time." 

"I used to be just a puzzle to you, you know."

"I was just a pretty young doctor you thought you could manipulate. I think it's safe to say a lot of things have changed between us."

"Not just changed, Julian. _Grown_." He swept a thumb over Julian's brow, brushing aside some of his hair to see him better, to hold his hands against the side of his face and touch his bare skin. "There was a time when I thought nothing could ever grow for me again."

Julian leaned in to the touch, and rested their foreheads together. Being just a few inches of each other in height, it was wonderfully easy in this position to look right into his eyes, an exhilarating advance in the closeness between them. 

This man before Garak loved him, it was so clear to see, even for someone who had spent so many years looking in every other direction.

"And you're not getting bored now that so much of the mystery has gone from our friendship?" Garak knew that he wasn't, but he still wanted to hear the answer. 

"Not even close. I don't think I'd even want to know everything there is to know about you. You can keep as much of yourself in the dark as you'd like." 

"Well, I'll have to keep something to tell you on my deathbed." Garak told him, a morbid sentiment that nonetheless caused Julian's smile to fracture and the gap between them to close at last. Yes, Garak wanted Julian to be the one to see him dying, ready to carry his secrets on. 

Garak's hand slid from Julian's face to his scalp, threading through his hair and gliding down to the back of his neck, so that he could cradle his skull and keep his head exactly where he wanted it. Softly their lips came together, in moments so delicate Garak could scarcely believe himself capable. But there they were, tender souls suspended in this liminal night, and it was so blissfully easy.

"It's going to be cold soon." Julian told him, lips against his forehead as Garak bent to press kisses against his jaw, still delicate, as if daring himself to see how much softness his once (and still) terrifying form could produce. "We should keep walking."

"I know you're eager to take me to bed, my dear, but for once, let's not be impatient. Let me enjoy you here for a bit." From his jaw Garak made his way to Julian's warm, vulnerable neck, a part of his friend's anatomy that Garak had long wanted to know like this. His skin was velvet beneath Garak's lips, and saltine, soaked in the day's sweat and tasting, Garak imagined, something like the brine of Earth. "Forgive my being saccharine, but I think you'll be enough to keep me warm a while longer." 

"I won't tell anyone." Julian said, and pressed a kiss to the crown of Garak's head. "As long as I can expect to hear you tell me things like that in the future." 

Garak bit him, still softly, and heard Julian's breath catch in his throat. "I think it's safe to say you will." His teeth made a diagonal path, from the space just below Julian's jaw to where his shirt covered his clavicle; he licked across the bone, nosing the fabric out of the way, and here Julian was salt, too, an entire golden body still warm from a long day of sun and trembling at his touch. 

Julian clearly didn't want to be left out of the explorations; his hands were stroking lightly down the ridges of Garak's neck, exactly the pressure he needed, thumbs catching at the tops of the largest scales, and somehow Garak could feel every whorl of human skin against his saurine flesh. If he had been a less broken man, perhaps he would have cried. 

"Have you had enough?" Julian asked him, as Garak lifted the shoulder of his shirt away to see the muscle there, and press more kisses to it. "I-- it's lovely, but I'd rather, oh, I'd rather be home right now. Wouldn't you?" The last of the sunset had departed, and all there was was moonlight and the sodium glow of the emergency lights. "Though I'd have you anywhere." Julian said, and it sounded like a confession. 

Garak looked up at him. "It is getting late. And I'd hate to keep you from your rest." Another bite, at the peak of human deltoid, then a smirk. It wouldn't do to let Julian forget the adversarial aspect of their relationship, after all. 

"Oh, I think you'll be doing at least a little of that." Julian told him, then pulled away, grasping Garak's hand as he did so, so that they started to walk together up the rest of the bridge, and onward to their home. It was only ten minutes away, but Garak felt every second of the distance, though the agony was, for once, due to an overabundance of wonderful things: Julian's periodic glance and smile over at him, the full contact between their linked hands, the recent memory of that texture of flesh beneath his lips, the knowledge that their bodies could fit together like two pieces of a greater whole. 

"We do both have to work tomorrow." Julian told him, as their front door approached. "But I'm not ready to sleep quite just yet. Are you?" 

"I don't think I could." Garak admitted, feeling too alive for anything as slow as rest. "Perhaps we could keep each other occupied - until we're feeling sufficiently sleepy, that is." 

The gate to their garden necessitated their going through one at a time, but Julian, behind him, didn't release his hand to let him through; he tugged on it, bringing Garak back to stand chest to chest. A serious look was in his eye, one that had previously only been present in situations of great gravity. "Garak." He kissed him, just a firm press of lips that lasted only a swollen second, but it lit Garak's body alight nonetheless. "I hope you know that nothing - and everything - is going to change between us." 

"And I hope you know, my dear, that I very much look forward to it. There's no other I'd want to make the journey with." 

Julian smiled, kissed him again. "Come on. Let's put the fire on." 

_Oh, my love_ , thought Garak. _The fire's already been lit_. And he walked with Julian through their door, and into home. 


End file.
